


Love in an Elevator

by BakerKeen



Series: Let Me Count the Ways [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Elevator Sex, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerKeen/pseuds/BakerKeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock get trapped in <strike>an elevator</strike> a lift. How will they ever pass the time?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in an Elevator

**Author's Note:**

> This belongs to the Let Me Count the Ways series, which is a spinoff of my first fic, Seven Other Ways. Basic premise (of the series, not of that work) is that John is nervous about bottoming and Sherlock reassures him by telling him that there are plenty of other ways they could get each other off. These ficlets are PWP of Sherlock checking his way down the requisite spreadsheet he's created. Probably better if you've read the original fic but each can stand alone.

John wove his fingers together and cupped them to give Sherlock a boost. The vent panel clattered to the floor and Sherlock pushed it out of his way with a triumphant bellow. John watched from below as his body disappeared, only the bright light of his mobile casting about visible from inside the lift. "Please be careful up there! And don't take too long."

"I'm perfectly fine, John," Sherlock's voice echoed. "Just checking for explosives." He descended again, rear end hanging for a moment before he dropped more gracefully than he ought to have been able to. John reached over to brush the dust off of the back of his bespoke trousers. "No explosives," Sherlock lamented, "And we're between floors. There's no way to reach the door on the next level up without equipment. Although perhaps we could --"

"We've been trapped for 7 minutes. Let's save the daring heroics for later, shall we?" John's held up his mobile. "Lestrade says the whole block's lost power. Car accident, apparently an electrical pole got knocked over. Looks like we're in for a bit of a wait." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes so hard that John feared he might actually damage them. "Oh, that's just _perfect_. I haven't even gotten to see the crime scene yet. Maybe Lestrade would send me photos!"

John shook his head. "I already asked. He can't get a strong enough signal to send pics with the wifi down. Can't work on the case until we get out of here, and we're not getting out for at least an hour." Sliding out of his jacket, he tossed it on the floor and unfastened the top few buttons of his shirt. The generator had turned on dim lights, but no air conditioning; it was already getting stuffy. 

Sherlock kicked the vent cover and tangled himself into a good sulk against the wall. Without even seeming to look at John, he sighed his annoyance. "And of course you would be aroused right now. No respect for The Work." 

John laughed. "While you were up there playing MacGuyver, I let Lestrade know we were stuck in here, got an update on how long until we'd get out, attempted to get videos or photos for you to analyze, and let Molly know to text us the results of the blood samples as soon as she got them. Knowing when to fold is not disrespect for The Work." He glanced up at the video camera. "Reckon that thing is working? Maybe you're right that this isn't the time."

Sherlock straightened up, a mischevious gleam in his eye. "Yesss," he hissed. He closed the distance between them, pulling John in for a long kiss before pulling away to shrug off his jacket. "Mycroft will see." He flung it on the floor and unbuttoned his shirt, eyes dancing. "He won't be able to resist the chance to analyze your body language but he'll be completely disturbed." John pulled back, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. Sherlock smirked at him and waved a finger at his body language. "Don't give me this. You _like_ the idea of being watched. You used to purposely leave the door cracked when you had Jeanette over for a shag and your respiration rate increased when I mentioned Mycroft watching." 

Sherlock unfolded John's arms, insinuating himself closer and pressing kisses to his mouth as he unbuttoned John's shirt. "Anthea's watching right now." John kissed back with a little more enthusiasm at that. Sherlock dropped his voice to a half-whisper. "Usually it's someone lower level watching the cameras, but with us stuck in here, Mycroft will have her monitor us personally. Imagine what she'll think of you, letting me get you off in a lift. The power could get turned back on at any moment and there we'd be. And next time she sees you she'll be thinking about how impressive your cock is and the expression you make when you come in my mouth."

John groaned, knowing it was already settled. "Is that what's on the menu?"

Sherlock nibbled on his ear. "Of course. It's the least messy option. And besides, I haven't gotten to do you yet." 

John chuckled. "You _actually_ created that spreadsheet, didn't you?" 

Sherlock didn't respond other than to loosen John's belt and trousers and slide a hand inside to palm his erection. "Rock hard, just imagining being watched. Naughty, naughty." He closed his hand around John and squeezed gently, eliciting a moan. "Shall we let her see what she's been turning away?" Sherlock pulled him in for a kiss, shifting their position so the camera caught their profile rather than his back, and pushed John's trousers and pants down his thighs. John's flushed cock jutted away from his body and Sherlock took a half-step back, running his fingers lightly over the shaft as John shivered. "She's watching closely now. So let's give her a good show, yeah?" 

John closed his eyes, picturing Anthea in a small security room, watching him on a monitor. "Think she's alone in there?"

Sherlock stroked John's cock firmly. "There was a small crowd in there watching, but by now Anthea would have scared them off; Probably alone. What do you think she's doing?" 

John moaned. "Watching. Getting wet." Sherlock dropped to his knees and, without preamble, took John inside his mouth. " _Christ._ Definitely wet now. Probably touching herself." He leaned his head back against the wall. He could picture it so clearly. Anthea would have locked the door and pulled her skirt up to slide her fingers under her panties. Sherlock swirled his tongue around him, applying just the right amount of suction, and John resolved to pay attention to his lover. He lifted his head again, looking down at Sherlock bobbing up and down on his cock. "God, that's amazing." He ran his fingers through Sherlock's curls before tangling his fingers in them and thrusting slightly. Sherlock winked up at him and leaned into the thrusts, letting himself gag a bit. " _Fuck_ , Sherlock. You like that, getting your mouth fucked?" He thrusted in deeply a few more times, stopping when Sherlock's eyes began to water; he didn't actually want to hurt him. God, Anthea was probably rubbing herself in tight circles right now. He ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair more gently now, no longer pulling, but Sherlock held his gaze and took him as deeply and quickly as he could without hurting himself. He cried out a warning and Sherlock pulled back slightly, holding his mouth open to catch John's come as he stroked him through his climax. 

John gulped in deep breaths and groaned his satisfaction. "Oh my God, that was phenomenal." Sherlock stood again, grinning, and John laughed. "You've got spunk on your face, here." He wiped it and Sherlock moved quickly to suck it off his thumb. "Mmmm, you're wicked. I think I'll suck you off, now." 

Sherlock's cock hadn't been touched yet, but it was already fully erect and leaving a damp spot in the front of his trousers. John thought he must not be the only one with a bit of an exhibitionism kink. He yanked Sherlock's trousers open and pulled his cock through the slit in his pants before kneeling to lick Sherlock up and down a few times. Sherlock hummed his satisfaction and John took him properly in his mouth, twisting a hand up and down at the same time. Sherlock swore reverently above him and John felt his bollocks tighten. He pushed forward to swallow against Sherlock, squeezing the orgasm out of him until he spilled down John's throat and collapsed against the wall of the lift. 

John licked one last stripe up his shaft and stood again, pulling his wrinkled clothes back into the right spots and checking his phone for messages. "Lestrade says we should be out of here in a few more minutes." Sherlock nodded, tucking his shirt neatly into his stained trousers and retrieving his coat. "Hopefully Anthea isn't scarred for life." 

Sherlock was trying to fix his wayward hair using the camera on his mobile as a mirror. "Don't be ridiculous, John, the generator doesn't power the camera. The red light's not even on." 

John looked up and of course, Sherlock was right. He punched him in the shoulder, laughing in spite of himself. "You arsehole!"

Sherlock sighed at his reflection, finally turning the phone off and shoving it in his pocket as the lights and air conditioning kicked on, followed quickly by the lift buttons lighting up. "I wouldn't let the disappointment get you down," he drawled as he punched the button for their floor. 

Moments later, they met Lestrade as the doors opened and his eyes slid from Sherlock's hair to the stain on his pants to John's rumpled shirt and rolled his eyes dramatically. "It was less than an hour, you two! Honestly!" Sherlock slid a smug smile at John as he flushed and a stab of desire fled through him. They grinned at each other for one giddy moment and then turned back toward the crime scene.


End file.
